Smile Like You Mean It
by theoneandonly.whoops
Summary: ONESHOT. When you have nothing bad happen to you, then you assume that nothing bad is ever going to happen. But it does. Angsty. SSish. AU. Nothing to do w/ the song Please Read and Review!


**AN - This is a one shot, it's sort of SS, but it's more like, Seth and then seperately, Summer. They do not know each other.**

**They're the same age. Seth was born and raised in Newport, Summer was born and raised in New York. Angsty. Please read and review! **

**DISCLAIMER - I don't own anything, obviously. **

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**Smile Like You Mean It**

"**It's a stupid dream; it'll never happen."**

Wow. His grandfather was _so _supportive.

Seth sat alone in his room, strumming the guitar lightly. He tried and tried to write songs, but it just came out all wrong, in a pop-type way. Maybe it was because all people wrote about was stupid relationships and friendships, no one ever wrote about the important stuff, like having no one or being 18 and never once having had a real friend. But as Seth tried to write these songs, all that came out were depressing power chord intros, followed by a small melody, and then he had nothing.

He was, apparently, a gifted musician. He started playing piano, just like all the other kids, at age 4, but unlike the others, he had finished all the levels by the time he was 11. Then he switched to guitar, and lost his 'gifted musician' status because, according to Caleb Nichol, the electric guitar isn't actually an instrument. Which is a complete lie, of course.

So, Seth ran away. At first he didn't know where he was going. He didn't know if he would be coming back. But there was nothing for him in Newport, so why would he come back?

Before long, he found himself in New York, signing up for an Open Mic competition at a small club. He lost, apparently there wasn't enough feeling in the music. But the winner was a guy who sung a song called, "I need you here." Which, of course, to Seth, was just a carbon copy of every other pop song out there. Relying on anyone was a foreign concept to him, so he couldn't relate to any of these songs, maybe that's why he didn't listen to them.

After more than five weeks in New York, traveling from club-to-club, trying to play anything even remotely like what they were looking for, Seth couldn't even remember _why _he came here, because, just like Newport, there was nothing for him. He didn't _fit _anywhere. So he lost all hope.

**--------------**

"**I'm sorry, but the tests returned positive, we will start treatment immediately"**

Those were the first words of the journey of dealing with cancer in the family. Her mom was diagnosed when Summer was 15.

She was 15 and just about as close to perfect as you can get. Her childhood was full of friends, supportive family, dreams and everything it should be filled with. She was a sweet innocent, model daughter. While the other girls wanted to be the next Brittney Spears, Summer always wanted to be was a professional dancer, specifically ballet. The other girls always said stuff like, "How can you do it? There's too much discipline." And she would respond with, "I love it. That's all that matters."

But then when she found out her mother was diagnosed, it was just the first step down the road of her not-so perfect life. You see, when you have nothing bad happen to you; ever, then you assume that nothing bad is ever going to happen. But it does, and Summer didn't even know how to deal with it. She couldn't cry, she couldn't laugh, she couldn't do anything.

She stopped dancing.

For one, because she wanted to spend more time with her mother, who they'd just received news about. Her mother was going to die in six months, and Summer still hadn't cried or laughed or smiled, even.

_  
_But even if her mother wasn't dying, she would've stopped anyways, because her latest teacher said that she was graceless and _fat. _And fat wasn't acceptable in the world of dance. But the strangest thing was she hadn't looked any different since she was 13 and no one told her she was fat or ugly or anything.

She ran home, still not able to deal with anything. Her mother reassured Summer from the hospital bed, which made Summer feel selfish. Her mother said, "Baby, you're gorgeous, and perfect, don't let anyone tell you anything different."

And that was the last time she heard anyone said she was beautiful, because three months later, her mother passed away.

**--------------**

"**Dad, can I come home?"**

Seth drummed the side of the pay phone, his palms sweating. He was expecting an "of course, we missed you so much." But instead, he got a "Do you have any idea what you did to your mother?! She's only just starting to get better, you think I'm going to let you come home?!"

And despite Seth's protests of how it would only _help_ Kirsten if he came home, Sandy hung up. Years later, Seth _would _go home, and Sandy would tell him that he was teaching him a lesson in independence and the consequences of not thinking about the people who love him. And Seth would tell him, "Thanks." Because he had learned so much while he was alone in New York, but it wasn't all from just being there, it was from the people around him.

It sounds totally cliché but it was true. It may have taken a year and a half of being almost depressed for him to climb back up and take on everything, but he did it.

Depressed. That was pretty much how he felt all the time. It was actually how he had felt ever since he ran away, or even ever since he started to hear stuff like, "College is coming up, you need to choose." Because he only ever wanted to be a musician, it was his _one _path, there was no Plan B. That was it. It was just about the one not safe thing Seth had ever done in his life.

**--------------**

"**What's the easiest way? Liposuction?" **

Seventeen year old Summer sat in the surgeon's office, awaiting the reply to the question she'd been asking doctors for 3 months. No one answered her; they said there wasn't enough fat to take away. But still she didn't believe them. She went through anorexia as a result of her mother's death, and the lady at the dance studio.

"Yes, I believe so, but we don't have much to work with here," the surgeon eyed Summer through his glasses.

Why does everyone keep saying that? "I've been told that, but I'm a dancer, so every pound counts."

"Um, this may be personal, but my daughter is also a dancer, and she is nowhere near as thin as you."

Weren't they supposed to just do whatever you say when you give them the money? "Not everyone works that way. Some people's bodies work as a dancer when they have a little bit of fat, mine doesn't."

"I'm sure it does."

"I'm not lying, sir."

"Anyways, you need an adult's consent before we do anything. You're under 18."

Damn it! Her dad was completely against everything she did regarding her weight, "Ok, I'll just be going. Thanks for your time." Summer got up and gave a half-wave to the surgeon before leaving the office completely.

She would just have to take the hard route and stop eating all together. It was the only way she would get thin enough to dance again, or at least that's what she told herself.

After months of eating nothing more than an apple or pear a day, Summer found herself hospitalized and still believing she was fat. Every time she looked in the mirror she saw the girl who people laughed about behind the girl's back. Summer never made any of these comments, but she often laughed along with the others. Just laughing along with the bullies contributed to it all.

"_Sweetie, why?" Neil had asked when he noticed how thin she was becoming._

"_Because I need to dance."_

"_Then why don't you?"_

"_Because the lady said you can only dance when you're skinny."_

Slowly, with the help of the nurses and her father, Summer started to get her life back on track. She spent her 18th birthday in the hospital.

Finally, she was released. She was almost nineteen at that time. She made a pact to never look in a mirror again, which was quite difficult if she wanted to go back to dance, seeing as the studio walls were mirrors. Summer decided that she would take it one step at a time, when she was ready to go back to dance—as a dancer, she would, but first she would help as a teacher's assistant at a _different _dance studio. It would be a start, and she would just put all her energy into that, and hopefully take her attention away from life.

**--------------**

"**Sir, you have potential, definitely, but we're not looking for potential, we want a finished deal"**

This was the response Seth got whenever he went to the small record labels or agencies. Every single time. Yet, he never gave up; ever. He tried singing and he got in contact with his Nana so he would have a place to stay, without rent.

Seth _only _had his family. Literally. His mom, dad, Nana and some other extended family were the only one that would notice when something went wrong. They were the only ones that even slightly supported him. The Nana and Sandy kept saying, "keep going." But Kirsten, still believed that he should go to college and learn some _real_ skills. _Music is a skill!_

When his mom said stuff like that, it just broke him. His parents were supposed to be the ones supporting him through thick and thin, but _no_, they were just like everyone else…saying "You can't do this. Choose a _safe _career path."

But who ever got anywhere by being safe? Seth sure as hell didn't. He was the one who played it safe and spent the better part of his teenage years alone in his room playing guitar. He decided that for once in his life he was going to put himself out there. Just to see what happened.

So far, it hadn't been going well, at all. He really was a failure. _  
_

**--------------**

"**Miss Summer, you look so pretty today."**

Nineteen year old Summer smiled warmly down at the five year old girl who was complimenting her. She'd once heard her best friend, Marissa, say that she hated when people praised her, because it always seemed like they were lying. But Summer thought, if they cared enough to make you feel good about yourself, what was the harm? Marissa said the only people who care about you are the ones that are honest with you. But Summer still believed in the power of compliments, "Thank you, Caroline, you're looking very nice yourself today."

The small girl blushed and ran back to her mom, hiding behind her leg. After about five seconds Caroline peeked her head out and smiled widely at Summer.

That was the best part about working at the dance studio as a teacher's assistant; seeing the smile you put on the children's faces. Summer still remembered when she was like them, so innocent and ignorant of the world around them. Quite frankly, she was a little jealous of them, their minds never lingered in one spot for long, so they were never troubled. One child, named Emily, stuck out to Summer, she seemed to be less jumpy and hyper than the other kids. It really made the smile on Summer's face grow ten times larger when she got Emily to smile. It was rare, but it happened. Usually, it was something ridiculously simple, like Summer would bring her undivided attention to Emily and tell her a story of when _she _used to dance like they did. Emily's eyes would widen, and the smallest of grins would appear on her face.

The other children, like Caroline, had speedy, always moving in a different direction, conversations. Sometimes even, subjects like death would come up, but then five minutes later the conversation would be back to who could do the best pirouette. Summer only wished she could drop such intense subjects like that, but her mind would always get stuck for hours when she even thought of her mother. She was off school for three months after her mother's death. It took her a year and a half to cry, because that was how long it took for her to process the information. She physically—and mentally couldn't cry, until she realized that her mother really was gone. When, finally, she was ready to break down, she cried—non stop—for seven days, no exaggeration.

**--------------**

"**He's there?!"**

Sophie sighed, "Yes, he's here."

Sandy felt the anger burning up, "Why are you only telling me now?"

"Because he thinks you don't care, what were you thinking? Telling him he couldn't come home."

"He needed it."

"No, he needs his father and mother to be behind him no matter what."

"I'm coming to get him."

"No, you're not. You broke it and now I'm fixing it. No discussion Sandy, you should have seen him when he came to my door."

"Is he ok?" Sandy said softly.

"Yes, physically, but he's not ok on the inside, he's completely heart broken."

"Why is he heart broken?"

"Because you, Kirsten and me; we're the only people he has, and then you said he couldn't come home, it just all came down at once."

"Could you tell him I'm sorry?"

"No. You have to tell him that."

"Well, can I talk to him?"

"No."

"Ma! He's my son!"

"And you hurt him, he will come to you when he can. No more questions, I'll call you if anything happens, bye."

"Ma!"

"Goodbye Sandy." Sophie hung up the phone, turning to see Seth standing there.

"Can I go home yet?" Seth asked, his voice cracking.

"How was the meeting?" She changed the subject.

"Nana!"

"Look, honey, you can go home, but do you really want to?"

"Yes! I'm not getting anything for the stuff I write!"

"You just have to keep going, your stuff is great."

"You have to say that! You're my Nana! I want someone who doesn't need to say it, say it."

"It'll come." Sophie looked sadly at her grandson, wishing there was some way she could help him get back to normal. He hadn't laughed or smiled in months.

"When?"

"It just will. Wait for it."

She was such a liar, in Seth's eyes. No one was ever going to like anything he did, let alone his music. It was just the same; over and over. He could be a genius in a "real" field and he would still get nothing. Ever.

**--------------**

Summer's father, who was her best friend in the entire world, got hit harder than even Summer did by her mother's death. He stopped working, and him and Summer spent their days together looking through photo-albums. Every single picture was a snapshot of the perfect life. Summer couldn't even remember the carefree feeling._  
_

Every day was another battle against wanting to stop eating and look herself in the mirror, and see what she looked like, to _her._ To everyone, to herself, to that lady who had such an effect on her all those years ago.

Helping the kids was one thing, and it definitely helped her as a person. But there was always something missing, she needed someone to talk to; someone her age, who could listen and understand what she was going through, constantly.

**--------------**

Seth leaned against the wooden post that was covered in posters and staples. He had his acoustic guitar in hand, the case open on the ground, waiting for anyone to give him some small change. He was playing his one finished song, the song that summed up exactly how he was feeling in life. Occasionally, someone would stop and drop a quarter, or a one dollar bill. They didn't even _look _at him. It was just an automatic reaction; a person on the street, you give them some money. What they didn't realise was that Seth didn't want their money; all he wanted was an acknowledgement to his music.

A raven haired girl walks by and stops, she leans down, dropping a five-dollar bill in the case, "It's beautiful."

He smiles; his first genuine smile in a year, "Thanks. So are you." He says, without realizing he was speaking out loud. He feels his cheeks burn.

She blushes, a grin overtaking her face "Thanks. I'll see you around?"

Seth nods, "I guess."

"My name's Summer, by the way."

He holds out a hand and their eyes meet, the first thought that hits him is, _this girl makes me smile, like actually smile, that has to mean something_, "I'm Seth."

"Nice to meet you, Seth." And she thinks, _this is him. _

"Right back at you, Summer…" he gestures for her to finish the sentence.

"Let's save that for next time." Summer says, unable to take the huge grin off her face.

Sometimes, first impressions are correct.

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**Please review!**

**Sarah**


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